


The Bet

by Ghostwriter (Zoya_Zalan)



Series: Flight of Illusion [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Drama, F/M, Mystery, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoya_Zalan/pseuds/Ghostwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A high-stakes bet between <i>Voyager's</i> commanding officers sets the scene as the mystery surrounding the Vardan sector deepens. Part Two of the Flight of Illusion Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : Paramount owns all things Voyager; I'm just borrowing. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Many thanks once again to my steadfast beta, Carol, for all her help!
> 
> Written in March 1998.

~ * ~ * ~

"Harry, Harry, Harry..." Tom Paris's voice rang through the air like an echo. "I'm insulted."

"It just doesn't blend very well with the surroundings, or with anything for that matter," Harry Kim insisted, squinting painfully at his friend. "It's way too loud."

"This is a tropical resort," Paris pointed out, watching several brightly attired people pass by their lounge chairs. "Anything goes here."

"I don't know, Tom. It's pretty obnoxious."

"Of course it is! It's a genuine Denebian frustration print - guaranteed to get a rise out of anyone," Paris replied proudly, rubbing his hands over the shirt in question. The primary-colored, paisley pattern clashed dreadfully with the neon pinstripe and pastel-colored, three-dimensional geometric designs, all rolled together on the same chartreuse-colored background.

"It's making me queasy," Kim complained.

"Here, put these on," Paris said, handing his friend a pair of dark sunglasses.

Kim complied, still staring at the wildly colored shirt. "Where did Chakotay say he got it from?"

"He didn't. He was so bent out of shape over my beating him in that last round of pool that he didn't say a word. I'd already won two weeks’ worth of replicator rations off of him, so I asked for the shirt instead."

"I dare you to wear it the next time you play pool with the captain," Kim laughed.

Paris choked on his drink. "Why not?! Chakotay isn't the only one who can use the shirt to unsettle his opponents. This could prove a valuable addition to my wardrobe, not to mention my replicator cache."

"You're bad."

Paris grinned wickedly at his companion. "Better believe it."

"Now what's this about a new holodeck program?" asked Kim. "You never finished telling me the other day."

"Harry, I've created a masterpiece of twentieth century action-adventure!" The pilot sat up and maneuvered himself so he was facing his friend, excitement sparkling in his blue eyes. "It's called 'Captain Proton'."

"Captain Proton? Sounds cheesy."

"It's supposed to be cheesy. I modeled it after the old _Flash Gordon_ serial from the late 1930s. Electric spaceships, diabolical villains, beautiful damsels in distress... it's all there, and more."

The younger man shook his head, chuckling. "Electric spaceships, huh? I'm not sure if I can handle that."

"You'll love it, Har! Chapter eighteen is the best: 'Bride of Chaotica'." Paris wiggled his eyebrows knowingly, causing Kim to groan in feigned exasperation.

Before either of them could continue the conversation, the doors to the holodeck opened behind them. They both turned to look as Seven of Nine marched in wearing a deep blue, one-piece bathing suit with matching sun robe and a towel draped across her shoulder. After surveying the holo-simulation with cool efficiency, the tall Astrometrics officer headed directly for their lounge chairs.

"Hi Seven," Kim smiled as she approached, deliberately ignoring the astonished smirk Paris was shooting in his direction. "You look fantastic."

"Thank you," Seven acknowledged neutrally. She regarded the ensign a moment longer before her eyes locked onto Paris's shirt. "Your clothing is offensive, Lieutenant," she expressed with typical Borg tact.

"Isn't it great?" Paris boasted, standing up to model it for her.

"I am not impressed," she replied, still staring at the clash of color distastefully. With obvious effort, she finally shifted her gaze back to Kim. "I am ready for my hydrosailing lesson."

"Hydrosailing?" Paris shot Kim another amused look, bright eyes silently demanding a lengthy explanation. "That sounds like a lot of fun."

"My cortical implants have suffered several minor malfunctions recently, causing me to lose my balance," the former Borg explained. "Until my system fully adapts itself to normal human biological rhythms, I will be susceptible to these lapses. Ensign Kim suggested that if I indulge in exercises which will familiarize me with this disorienting sensation, I will have more control over my reactions when the incidents occur."

"Well, that's a sound piece of logic if I ever heard one," Paris grinned, playfully slapping Kim on the shoulder.

The younger man blushed furiously. "Let's head for the water, Seven. It's a little too colorful around here for my taste," he joked as they started towards the beach. He glanced over his shoulder once more, shaking his head at the outrageous shirt his friend wore.

"Can't recognize good taste when you see it!" Paris called after them.

"I can, and that's definitely not it," came a voice from behind him. 

Paris turned and found himself facing another beautiful woman dressed for fun in the sun. "Hubba, hubba," he said softly, letting his eyes wander the length of her, drinking in each delicate curve until his gaze met the sparkle of her own dark eyes.

"Where did you get that?" B'Elanna Torres asked, nodding towards the pilot's shirt.

"This is courtesy of Commander Chakotay," he answered proudly.

The beautiful half-Klingon engineer took a step closer, eyeing Paris carefully. "He gave it to you?"

"No, I won it in a pool match the other night."

"Let me get this straight," she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You wanted the shirt?"

"Are you kidding? This is a gem!"

Torres crossed her arms and stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "You have the worst taste in clothing."

"And you still married me?" Paris responded, inching his way closer to her until his arms circled around her waist. He leaned down, his lips intent on finding hers, but her hands came up to stop him.

"I'm sorry, but I can't kiss you while you're wearing the shirt from hell," she said. "I can still see it when I close my eyes." 

"So, how about I take it off," he asked suggestively.

"You're a pig, Tom Paris," she grinned.

"I love you, too, B'Elanna," he whispered in her ear, hugging her tightly. She hugged him back, trying to ignore the nauseating mix of color her head rested on.

Something down by the water's edge suddenly caught her eye, the image of a long-dead Klingon warrior beckoning to her with fire in his eyes. "What the hell?" Torres snapped, disengaging herself from Paris's embrace.

"What?" the pilot asked, startled by her actions.

"I thought I saw..." she began, still looking toward the beach. The image was no longer there. "One of the holo-emitters must be acting up," she continued, turning toward the holodeck controls. "I'd better check it out."

Paris was totally confused. "B'Elanna, what's wrong?" She seemed spooked, if that was even possible. He looked back in the direction she'd been staring, but all he saw was a long stretch of beach lined with palm trees. Shaking his head, he turned and followed her to the controls.

~ * ~ * ~

Kathryn Janeway strolled into the Mess Hall, nodding and murmuring greetings to various crew members as she passed them. She had a remarkable crew, each and every one of them having gone above and beyond the call of duty in the last five years. They truly were a family, an island community determined to do everything possible to survive and flourish. She wondered silently what might happen if they did find a short-cut home to the Alpha Quadrant. After all they'd been through, how would they react to 'normal' Starfleet atmospheres on their next assignments? Furthermore, could she possibly go back to being the distant, no-nonsense captain she'd been trained to be after having given so much of herself, emotionally, to this crew out of necessity? _We've all been changed by this, for better or for worse_ , she mused silently.

Their food supply had turned up free of contaminants, much to her relief. Neelix's cooking could be a bit of a challenge at times, but if they were forced to sustain themselves using the replicators, even temporarily, it would mean a considerable drain on their power supply.

Janeway stared absently at the selection of food before her, trying to guess what some of it was. Looking around, she couldn't find Neelix anywhere. He usually delighted in explaining every morsel of food to her, and to anyone else who would listen, for that matter. Her curiosity piqued, she walked around the counter and headed into the kitchen area. 

Powerful aromas wafted from various bubbling pots, some of them appetizing, some not. _Voyager's_ captain wrinkled her nose at a particularly pungent mixture, the smell of leola root as strong as the multitude of sharp spices that had been used. There was still no sign of Neelix. It wasn't like him to leave the kitchen unattended for very long.

Resigned to braving the offered cuisine without a verbal menu, Janeway turned to leave, but a soft, rustling noise coming from the other side of the kitchen made her stop and look back. Stepping forward a bit, she caught sight of _Voyager's_ cook and self-appointed morale officer kneeling beside a set of open storage cabinets. Coming up behind him, she reached down to touch his shoulder.

"Neelix..." she began. 

What happened next could only be described as deafening, panicked chaos. Janeway managed to duck instinctively as Neelix's terrified response to her sudden appearance caused a flurry of flying pots and pans, spilled food, and frayed nerves. The commotion lasted so long, the chain reaction having knocked open additional cabinets which spilled forth even more cooking utensils, that she found herself taking startled refuge behind one of the counters until the very last pot cover had wobbled to a stop on the floor.

_Voyager's_ captain peered cautiously over the top of the counter she was crouched behind. Neelix was staring at her, wide-eyed, and very obviously frightened, holding a small pan in front of himself protectively. As she started to get up, she noticed the entire complement of dining crew members had gathered around the entrance to the kitchen. They all looked a bit shell-shocked, and one of them had his phaser drawn.

"Relax, Lieutenant," Janeway held up her hand to the armed crewman. He nodded, lowering his weapon as the crowd began to disperse. She turned her attention back to the Talaxian, resisting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the whole incident. "Are you all right, Neelix?" she asked softly, not wanting to startle him any further. 

"The meditation isn't helping," he whispered, still breathing heavily.

Janeway carefully made her way across the floor, now littered with cookware, and knelt beside Neelix's shaking form. Slowly, she took the small pan from his hand and laid it down, grasping his arm reassuringly. "I think it might be a good idea for you to speak with the Doctor," she urged quietly. "Maybe he could give you something to help you relax."

"Yes, Captain," he acknowledged, closing his eyes in defeat. Janeway helped him stand up, steadying him as he made his way across the kitchen. After extinguishing the flames underneath the pots and covering the food, Neelix turned back to the captain, nodded slightly, and then headed cautiously out the back entrance into the corridor.

After he'd gone, Janeway took a deep breath and silently surveyed the room around her. The place was a disaster area. The sound of muffled footsteps approaching followed by a deep chuckle caused her to turn around. Commander Chakotay stood just inside the entrance, a bemused gaze locked onto hers.

"So," he began casually, breaking eye contact to look around, "this is what happens when someone turns you loose in a kitchen."

With a great deal of effort, Janeway managed to keep a straight face, only the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at her mouth. "No, this is what happens when the captain accidentally frightens a Talaxian cook who's already quite unsettled," she corrected.

Chakotay burst out laughing. "I always miss the fun," he complained jokingly. "It looks like Neelix isn't the only one who's wound up, though. Several people in the dining area are cleaning up spilled food — I'm presuming that's a side effect from this little event," he nodded at the clutter on the floor. "I guess the Mess Hall will finally live up to its name."

"The Doctor is on the warpath again," Janeway stated, taking another look around the kitchen. "Apparently, an unusual number of crew members are reporting insomnia, nervousness, nightmares, and even a few hallucinations. I'm starting to wonder whether Neelix's warning really did have some truth to it."

"Phantom aliens?" Chakotay asked incredulously. "Maybe Neelix just let a few rumors slip despite your request, and now everyone's letting their imaginations run wild."

"You haven't had any unusual experiences in the last forty-eight hours, have you, Chakotay?"

"Does losing my favorite shirt to Tom Paris count?"

Janeway's eyebrows rose at that, but she didn't ask for an explanation.

"Wait a minute," Chakotay paused, thinking. "Come to think of it, I did have something strange happen the other night. I guess I dismissed the incident because, at the time, I thought I'd imagined seeing a ship through the viewport."

"Ship?" The captain's full and undivided attention was now centered on her first officer.

"I checked with the Bridge, but they didn't show anything on sensors. It was just out of the corner of my eye, and for only a split second. After hearing the all clear, I didn't give it a second thought."

"So far we haven't encountered anything threatening in this sector," Janeway murmured, "but I think we need to discuss this situation from a different perspective, one that takes Neelix's warning in a more serious light. Let's set a staff meeting for 1500 hours."

Chakotay nodded in agreement, his eyes shifting to the floor. "Should we clean up your mess first?" he asked.

"My mess?" she exclaimed curtly.

_I was right_ , he thought wryly. _She hasn't had any caffeine yet this morning_. "You were trying to find a coffee pot, right?"

"That's very funny, Commander," Janeway remarked, kneeling down to pick up some of the fallen cookware. Without a dose of caffeine and some food in her stomach, _Voyager's_ commanding officer was in no mood for jokes.

"I thought it was," he protested, moving to help her.

"Guess again."

"I see someone hasn't had her coffee yet," he mumbled, deliberately trying to provoke her. It took all the effort he had not to smile.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Janeway demanded, stopping to glare at him.

"It means you always get a bit defensive if you haven't had your daily caffeine fix," he replied nonchalantly, not meeting her gaze.

"Really?" she replied, her voice taking on a definite edge. She went back to work, the sound of pots banging loudly together being the only outward sign of her testiness.

_Here we go_... Chakotay grinned. "Can I get you a cup, Captain?"

~ * ~ * ~

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it, B'Ela?" Paris asked his wife as they walked through the corridors. Kim and Seven followed behind them quietly.

"It was nothing," Torres shook her head. "I thought I saw someone I recognized among the holocharacters for about half a second, and then he was gone. It's no big deal. Obviously I imagined it. Remember, I'm suffering from sleep deprivation."

Paris winked, wrapping his arm tightly around her shoulders. "Is this a good thing or a bad thing?"

She smiled back wickedly. "Definitely a good thing."

"All right you two," Kim chided, a huge grin on his face. "Get a room."

They all burst out laughing except for Seven, who glanced at Kim in confusion. "Why do Lieutenants Paris and Torres need to acquire another set of living quarters?"

Torres shook her head. "It's a figure of speech, Seven."

"It means we're getting too frisky in public," Paris explained.

The former Borg stared at the married couple distastefully. "You are referring to copulation."

The pilot laughed softly. "We're certainly working up to it." Torres punched him playfully.

"The emotional components of human sexuality are difficult for me to comprehend. A strictly biological approach is far more efficient."

"Oh, I'm sure Harry would be more than happy to help you understand the finer details," Paris grinned.

"TOM!" Kim shouted, his face flushing once more.

Their laughter was interrupted as they approached the Mess Hall entrance. There appeared to be a lot of people leaving all at once, and very quickly. "Hey, what's going on?" Torres asked one of the crewmen.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," came the amused reply as the officer continued down the corridor. The four of them looked at each other curiously, then made their way inside.

The first thing they heard was cookware being tossed about from somewhere inside the kitchen. Then the captain's voice rang loudly through the room. "Oh, I beg to differ, Commander!"

More sounds of banging pots and silverware assaulted their ears. Chakotay's voice filtered through the noise, sounding a bit calmer than the captain's. "Admit it, Kathryn; you need the caffeine."

The four listeners made their way through the Mess Hall very slowly, taking in the disheveled look of their surroundings. Curiosity kept them from turning around and leaving like the others had. None of them had ever heard Chakotay call the captain by her first name before.

As they neared the main counter and peered into the kitchen, the couple in question continued their repartee, oblivious to the fact that they now had an audience.

"Are you suggesting that I can't survive without a certain amount of caffeine in my system?" Janeway barked at him, throwing a handful of pot covers back into a cabinet.

The smile on Chakotay's face was priceless. "That's exactly what I'm suggesting. You couldn't go without caffeine if your life depended on it."

Janeway turned to face him, her eyes smoldering. "Care to make a friendly wager on that, Commander?" she shot at him, her voice deadly calm.

Paris unintentionally chose that moment to shift his weight, the wild pattern of his shirt catching the attention of both arguing parties. Janeway and Chakotay wheeled to face the main counter, momentarily startled by their captive audience. Both sets of eyes went straight to Paris' obnoxious clothing, but the pilot wasn't ready to let the subject change just yet.

"Go ahead, Chakotay, it's your turn," Paris encouraged. "Are you gonna make the bet?"

Chakotay looked at Janeway, another smile threatening the corners of his mouth. "You're serious?" he asked her.

A shadow of a smile crossed her own features as she gazed back at him. "Very."

They continued to stare at each other for a few moments more, once again forgetting their audience. Anger was still written in her features, but behind it, her eyes held a spark of laughter.

"Okay," Chakotay began, determination coloring his voice. "I bet you can't go two days without consuming something with caffeine in it, Captain."

"I accept your challenge, Commander," she answered. "What are the stakes?"

The commander held up his index finger. "First, a stipulation. You must agree to let the doctor monitor you remotely since we can't watch you at all times."

"Afraid I'm going to cheat?" Janeway asked, the twinkle in her eyes growing brighter.

"I'm just trying to make this entirely fair," he explained, not fighting the smile any longer.

"Agreed," she said finally. "Now, what are the stakes?"

"How about a few extra days off while the other pulls double duty to cover?" Chakotay offered.

Janeway opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of another voice stopped her.

"Oh, no, no!" Paris interrupted, walking around the counter into the kitchen. He wore a devious smile on his face. "This is a landmark event," he continued. " _Voyager's_ commanding officers making a bet? The stakes have to be a bit higher than that."

"Just what, exactly, did you have in mind, Mister Paris?" Janeway asked cautiously.

"Let's make this really interesting," the pilot began, walking over to the replicator. "Computer, two sheets of blank paper, two envelopes, and two pens."

Within seconds, the requested items had materialized. Paris picked them up and handed one of each to both Janeway and Chakotay. "There must be something each of you would like from the other?" he continued.  
"Replicator rations? The loser has to scrub the plasma manifolds or spend free time and rations designing a holoprogram to the winner's specifications? Chakotay, what about trading your office for the captain's Ready Room?"

The first officer's eyebrows rose at that last comment, another grin creeping across his face.

Janeway's eyes narrowed menacingly at Chakotay's reaction. "Temporarily," she stressed.

"How about those of us in the Neutral Zone," Paris continued, indicating the other three onlookers, "determine a reasonable time limit should the winner's demands require such?"

"I could live with that," Chakotay smiled broadly at Janeway. After a moment, she reluctantly nodded her consent to Paris.

"Okay!" Paris grinned. "Both of you write down what you want and seal it in your envelope. Be sure your name is written on the outside so we know who wrote them."

_Voyager's_ command team complied, each turning his back on the other to keep the contents of the notes hidden from view.

Paris glanced at the rest of his companions. Kim and Torres wore bewildered smirks on their faces, and Seven stood watching with a very calm, but interested look on her own. _This is going to be very, very interesting_ , Paris thought smugly.

The sound of rustling paper brought him back to the present. Both the captain and commander were sealing their envelopes. "All done?" the pilot asked. "Okay, I'll just take them and..." his voice trailed off as he saw the look in their eyes.

"What, so you can switch them around or worse when we're out of sight?" Chakotay complained.

"You don't trust me, Chakotay?" Paris asked, sounding hurt.

"You're wearing my shirt," the first officer growled.

"Hey, I won this fair and square."

" _This_ is the shirt you lost?" Janeway asked incredulously.

"You can have it back, Chakotay," Torres offered, ignoring her husband's shocked expression. "I gave it to you thinking I wouldn't have to look at such a repulsive pattern on a regular basis."

"You gave him this shirt, B'Ela?"

Kim was biting back laughter as he watched Paris glance from Chakotay to Janeway to Torres, looking positively insulted.

"Getting back to the matter at hand," Janeway began, drawing all eyes back to her. "I would feel much better if someone else kept the envelopes."

"Okay, okay," Paris backed down, holding his hands up in defeat. "I get the drift. Would you agree to let Seven hold the envelopes?"

Janeway looked at her first officer, both of them nodding their heads slightly.

"Seven," Paris said, gesturing to her.

The former Borg stepped around the counter and stopped in front of them. "Am I to understand that you wish me to retain these until the allotted time for this wager has expired?" she asked.

"Yes, Seven," said Janeway. "Would you mind?"

"I have no objection," Seven responded, accepting the envelopes.

"Great," Paris began. "We'll meet here at the same time two days from now to hear the results, unless, of course, someone loses the bet before then," he grinned boldly at Janeway. "Just for fun, we'll also read off what the winner would have had to do if he'd lost."

"Wait a minute," Chakotay objected. "You mean you're going to read both pieces of paper?"

"Sure, but only the loser actually has to do what the winner requires of him or her," Paris finished.

"Is that really necessary? Shouldn't you just read off what the loser has to do?"

"It's not a big deal, Chakotay. This is just a friendly wager, right?" Paris clapped his hands and rubbed them together as he finished. _The betting pool is gonna be out of control these next two days_ , he thought with a grin.

"Right," Chakotay murmured sheepishly, nodding his head.

"All right, Commander," Janeway began, turning to look at him, "do you want to escort me to Sickbay so you can make sure the Doctor puts the right monitor on?"

The first officer smiled, gesturing politely toward the door. His smile disappeared slowly as he moved to follow the captain, replaced by a look of concern. _How the hell am I going to get that envelope back?_ he wondered as the door swished shut behind them.

"I can't believe what just happened!" Kim shouted once their superiors had left the room. Torres burst out laughing.

"Am I gonna have a field day with this one!" Paris exclaimed. "I'll be swimming in replicator rations forty-eight hours from now, and I won't even need this shirt to do it!"

"Does that mean we can get rid of it?" Torres asked seriously.

"I do not understand why you are so elated that the captain and Commander Chakotay have made this wager?" Seven asked.

"Seven, we'll have to teach you a thing or two about gambling. You've got one of the best poker faces on board..."

"Oh no you don't, Tom," Kim warned, taking Seven by the arm and leading her back around the counter. "I won't let you corrupt my favorite hydrosailing partner."

"Me? Corrupt?"

"I don't blame him," Torres remarked, grinning wickedly at her husband. She held out her hand to him. "Come on, let's eat something."

"Do you think I corrupt people?" he asked her quietly.

"My lips are sealed on that one," she retorted.

Paris chuckled softly. "Not for long."

~ * ~ * ~

The staff meeting later that day produced more questions than answers. The Doctor was in attendance, and after briefing everyone on what had been taking place with the crew, B'Elanna reluctantly admitted her own experience on the holodeck. The captain sat quietly and listened, the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach growing more intense. A series of full spectrum scans had been run, but no conclusive evidence that they were in any danger was found.

Several hours later, Janeway sat in her Ready Room, still contemplating the discussion they'd had in the meeting. _Do I order a series of battle drills?_ she wondered. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was barely above a whisper. "Then again, how do you defend yourself against something that you're not even sure is there?"

Her fingers absently wandered to her throat where they traced the outline of her newest feature: the small, caffeine-sensitive monitor the Doctor had attached to her skin. She smiled suddenly, remembering their bet. This was going to be an easy win.

That thought warmed Janeway on the inside as Chakotay's face appeared in her mind. A mischievous sparkle brightened her eyes instantly as she glanced at the chronometer on her computer terminal. "It should be just about time for the show," she chuckled softly as she got up from her desk.

Her captain's face was firmly in place as she entered the Bridge. Stepping up to the command level, she nonchalantly glanced at the cup Commander Chakotay had been drinking from earlier. It was empty. She fought hard not to laugh out loud, quickly turning to look at the viewscreen before she embarrassed herself. Not thirty minutes before, while he was busy at a different station, she'd carefully sneaked a few pinches of the potent herbal blend he'd given her into the tea he'd been drinking. She'd been waiting ever since to see what kind of a reaction, if any, it would cause. _Making me lose control in the safety of my quarters is one thing_ , she thought wickedly, _but making me uncomfortable on the Bridge — twice — calls for a little revenge._

Janeway stepped forward, stopping behind Paris's station, deliberately putting herself directly in Chakotay's line of vision. Placing one hand on the back of Paris's chair and the other on her hip, she let her body lean in a casual manner. The gesture was innocent in and of itself, but to someone whose body was under the influence of the tea, it could very easily be seen as a seductive posture.

"Are we still on course, Lieutenant?" she asked Paris quietly, taking her hand off her hip and running it gently over her hair, as if checking to see whether her 'twist' was still in place. She moved her hand to rest on the back of her neck, caressing the muscles there slowly.

"Aye, Captain, maintaining warp four as ordered," the pilot replied, still looking at his console.

"Can Astrometrics confirm our position?"

"Yes, ma'am. They're maintaining a continuous readout of our progress."

"Very good," Janeway stated, turning around to head for her chair. She didn't even need to look at Chakotay directly to see that his face was flushed. She listened carefully as her first officer cleared his throat and coughed softly. She had to look at him; if she didn't, he would know something was up. Taking a deep breath, she turned her head and stared at him, forcing a look of concern on her face. "Are you all right, Commander?" she asked.

Chakotay nodded, still staring straight ahead. He was practically squirming in his seat, crossing his legs to hide his body's reaction. The corners of Janeway's mouth twitched as she watched him pick up his empty cup, scrutinizing the residue at the bottom carefully. Dark eyes rose slowly to meet the bemused blue-grays of _Voyager's_ captain. A triumphant expression crossed Janeway's face as she trained her gaze back on the viewscreen. _Mission accomplished,_ she thought smugly.

The sound of a warning indicator on Tuvok's console brought the command team back to reality. "Captain, sensors are picking up a debris field bearing 496.1," the Vulcan stated calmly.

"What kind of debris?" Janeway asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

"It appears to be the remains of several ships."

"Can you determine the make of the ships, Mister Tuvok?"

"Negative. Neither the ships nor the residual traces of the weapon that destroyed them are something we have ever encountered before."

"How long ago were they destroyed?" Janeway asked.

"Approximately two years."

"Have some of the debris beamed to Cargo Bay Two," Janeway ordered. "Alert Engineering and let them know we'll need a full spectrum analysis."

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok responded.

"I'll oversee the investigation," Chakotay announced, quickly getting up from his seat and heading for the turbolift. By the time Janeway had turned around to say something, he was already inside the lift with the doors closing behind him. Biting back the chuckle that threatened to slip out, the captain turned back to the viewscreen.

"Mister Paris, slow to one-quarter impulse. Do we have a visual?"

"We're just coming into range, Captain," said Kim.

"On screen."

Silence permeated the Bridge as the viewscreen changed to reveal the debris. The twisted pieces of metal floated through the coldness of space, silent witnesses to some unspeakable carnage. Janeway felt a chill run up her spine, causing her to shiver involuntarily. "Can you tell how many ships were destroyed here?" she asked, trying to fight off an acute feeling of dread. The debris field was enormous, at least three thousand kilometers wide.

"The data would seem to indicate that there were only two," Tuvok replied.

The captain took a long, deep breath, absolutely stunned by the information she'd just been given.

"Big ships," Paris mumbled softly.

His words were the last to echo through the Bridge for quite some time as everyone silently contemplated the enormity of their discovery.

~ * ~ * ~

Torres stood in the middle of Cargo Bay 2, surrounded by pieces of wreckage, some of them as large as she was. As far as she was concerned, the rest of the world didn't exist. Once a mystery like this presented itself, time stood still for her. All that mattered were the pieces of these unidentified ships and the tricorder she held in her hand. She vaguely heard the doors to the Cargo Bay open, but her intense concentration didn't allow her to acknowledge it further.

"Find anything interesting?" Chakotay's voice registered, but it still took her a few moments to tear herself away from what she was doing to answer.

"Very interesting..." she trailed off, finally looking in his direction. "Hey, what's with you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked nervously.

"You look like you just ran a marathon or something."

"Hot flash."

Torres snorted, a smile spreading across her face. "Right."

"Well, I am an old man, as you're so fond of reminding me," he grinned. "So, what have you found?"

"It's what I haven't found out that's so interesting. I can't identify one of the metals in this alloy," Torres revealed, picking up a small piece of the wreckage. "In fact, I've never seen anything quite like this before. Look at these properties." She handed him her tricorder.

"It looks similar to Tritanium, but with an extra something added in," he said, after looking at the readouts.

"Well, that extra something certainly gave our transporters a hard time. It's exhibiting completely different phase variances."

"You mean different, as in part of the alloy is out of sync?" he asked, remembering their past encounters with similar circumstances.

"That's exactly what I mean."

"How is it possible to bond together metals with completely different phase variances and have them exist as one alloy?"

"That's what I'd like to know, among other things," Torres began. "Given these readings, it would seem the ships had some sort of phase shifting capabilities. Because the alloy has such unusual properties, as well as different phase variances, it makes for one incredibly tough exterior. It's stronger than any alloy I've ever seen. Whatever blew these ships to pieces... well, let's just say I wouldn't want to irritate whoever's behind the trigger."

"Agreed," Chakotay murmured.

"And that's not all," she continued. "None of what I found is salvageable, but the technology is definitely more advanced than anything we've encountered — by a long shot."

"Let's start compiling a report. The captain is going to want this information as soon as possible," he nodded to her. Taking out his own tricorder, he began to sift through the wreckage as well.

~ * ~ * ~

"Mister Neelix, if you don't stop hovering, I'll be forced to take drastic measures," _Voyager's_ holographic doctor snapped, his patience worn thin.

The Talaxian flinched at the EMH's tone of voice, taking a step back. "I'm sorry, Doctor. When did you say this relaxant would take effect?"

"Technically, it should have taken effect a long time ago," the Doctor remarked, "but given the extreme level of agitation you're experiencing I'm not surprised the effects were negated. Perhaps if you'd returned to the Mess Hall directly instead of spending the last five hours under my feet contemplating various scenarios of impending doom, the medicine would have had a better chance of working."

Behind them, B'Elanna Torres marched into Sickbay looking extremely unhappy. Her uniform jacket was wrapped around her left hand, blood stains clearly visible on the fabric. The Doctor maneuvered around the nervous morale officer, grabbing a med cart as he quickly approached the injured engineer. Neelix followed closely behind, but stopped short when he caught sight of the blood, his legs turning rubbery. "I think I should sit down," he murmured queasily, sliding himself onto the nearest biobed.

"What happened?" the hologram asked as he unwrapped the makeshift dressing.

"I managed to cut myself on a piece of wreckage from the debris field," Torres winced.

Neelix blanched. "Debris field?" he whispered.

"Next time, you should try analyzing the material instead of impaling yourself on it," the Doctor lectured, shaking his head at the size of the wound he was treating.

The engineer gritted her teeth and glared at the EMH. "I'll try to remember that." Reaching over with her free hand, she fumbled angrily with the stained uniform jacket, finally pulling off and activating her combadge. "Torres to Paris."

The reply was instantaneous. "Paris here."

"I'm going to be a little late tonight," she informed him, frustration apparent in her voice. "I need to give the captain a full report on the debris as soon as I'm finished here in Sickbay."

"You okay?" the pilot asked.

"Just a scratch," she lied, silencing the Doctor's protest with another venomous look. "I should be home in about forty minutes."

"Not a problem," assured Paris. "There's something I need to take care of anyway, so I'll see you in a bit."

The only sound left after the comlink closed was the steady hum of the dermal regenerator. Torres glanced at her left hand, now almost fully healed. "Thank you," she growled reluctantly.

"You're very welcome," the hologram responded sweetly, grinning as Torres' scowl deepened. "One of these days I'll discover the formula for Klingon happy pills."

"Good luck," the engineer spat, flexing her fingers experimentally as the EMH finished. Without another word, she attached her combadge to the outside of her turtleneck and stalked out of the room.

The holographic doctor stared after her. "Another grateful patient," he mumbled sarcastically. Picking up Torres' discarded uniform jacket, he headed for the other side of Sickbay.

Neelix, who had been incapacitated by the sight of the engineer's injury, snapped out of his daze as the EMH walked past him. "Did you hear that, Doctor? They've found debris! There must be danger nearby!"

"We don't know that," the Doctor emphasized, placing the jacket in the recycler before turning to face the Talaxian. "Listen to yourself; you're allowing meaningless speculation to fuel your anxiety."

Neelix blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts. "You're right," he finally admitted. "Isn't there anything you can do to help me?"

"The only other option is to give you a sedative, but that would render you unconscious."

"I can't do that; I need to prepare the evening meal yet," the Talaxian fretted, wringing his hands together.

"I assumed as much. Why don't you go and begin your dinner preparations a bit early," the Doctor suggested hopefully. "It's not wise for me to try giving you another dose of relaxant so soon. Getting your mind off the problem is the best prescription I can offer at this point."

Neelix regarded the EMH solemnly, nodding his head in resignation. "Do you mind if I come back later? You could give me a sedative then?" He held his breath, waiting expectantly.

"Sedating you every time you're not busy in the Mess Hall isn't going to solve your problem. It's not even a very healthy alternative. You're still going to have to face another day in the Vardan sector when you wake up again, and the captain said it may take up to week to clear this region of space."

"Please?" pleaded Neelix.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and sighed. "We'll see," he offered.

"Thank you, Doctor!" Neelix exclaimed, engulfing the EMH in a huge bear hug. "You won't be sorry!" he insisted enthusiastically.

The Doctor was beside himself. "Oh, I'm sure I will be," he assured the excited morale officer, not trying to hide his displeasure.

"Thank you," Neelix repeated, patting the EMH's chest affectionately before turning to leave.

_Voyager's_ holographic doctor watched with relief as his last patient finally exited Sickbay. "I'm programmed to deal with any medical emergency, from the smallest scratch to the most complicated surgical procedure," he mumbled. "Who would have thought my greatest challenge would come in the form of a Delta Quadrant native suffering from extreme paranoia."

The EMH mused on that thought a moment longer before a look of inspiration crossed his features. He snapped his fingers in triumph, reaching up to tap his combadge.

"Sickbay to Ensign Wildman..."

~ * ~ * ~

Ensign Seven stood calmly in front of her console in Astrometrics, fingers working efficiently over the control panels. The large imaging screen on the wall provided _Voyager's_ current position within the Vardan sector. Three-dimensional overlay maps were constantly superimposing themselves around the small speck of light that represented their ship, providing a more detailed account of the debris field they were investigating. The room was silent, save for the ever-present hum of _Voyager's_ engines.

Suddenly, the door behind her slid open with a mechanical hiss. Chakotay walked in and crossed to where she stood, hands clasped casually behind his back. "Ensign," he nodded, smiling.

"Commander Chakotay," she responded coolly. "Do you require my assistance?"

"Yes, actually, I do," he said. "I'm just wondering, how secure are those envelopes we entrusted to your care earlier today?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Quite secure, I assure you. Lieutenant Torres suggested I place them under a level two security field in Cargo Bay One. Her explanation had something to do with Lieutenant Paris trying to 'fix the betting pool.' Do you understand what she was referring to?"

Chakotay closed his eyes, a pained smile crossing his features. "Unfortunately, I do."

"Then perhaps you could explain this to me. Both Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Kim seemed very reluctant to do so." She was gazing at him intently, her eyes demanding an explanation.

"It means Mister Paris is trying to stir up trouble again — something he excels at."

"I do not understand," she objected.

"That's okay, Seven. It's probably best that you don't," Chakotay grinned. "Thank you for your assurance. I'm sure the envelopes are in good hands."

Before she could protest, he turned and quickly left the room. The former Borg stared after him for a long moment, eyebrows quirked quizzically, before turning back to her work.

Out in the corridor, Chakotay walked slowly toward the turbolift, his mind racing. _I could deactivate the force field with my command override, but that action would be flagged in the official logs. The captain is the only one authorized to erase a command action from the records, and I can't let her know what I'm doing._

He finally came to a stop in front of the turbolift doors, touching the control panel on the wall beside it. "I need to talk to B'Elanna," he murmured out loud. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Torres."

"Lieutenant Torres is in Captain Janeway's Ready Room," the computer replied.

More thoughts swirled in his head, all accompanied by visions of his extreme embarrassment in two day's time if he didn't get at those envelopes before then. I'll just have to find her later, he thought silently as the doors before him opened and he stepped on. If I don't, I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do...

~ * ~ * ~

The doors to Cargo Bay 1 opened to reveal two of _Voyager's_ senior officers, one looking extremely confident, the other highly dubious.

"I don't know about this, Tom," Harry Kim murmured. "We're invading Seven's personal space, not to mention risking the wrath of our superiors."

Paris dragged the younger man inside, a huge grin spread across his face. "Relax, Harry. This may be where Seven regenerates, but it's still a cargo bay. If anyone comes in, we're just here to inspect some cargo. Besides, I asked the computer to keep tabs on Seven. If she leaves Astrometrics, we'll know."

"That still doesn't make this right. Why do you need to get at the envelopes anyway?"

"Oh, we're just having a little fun. Either way, I stand to make a mint in replicator rations off of this bet, but it's always nice to see what I'm up against. I just want to see what they wrote down — that information may come in handy."

Kim followed his friend reluctantly, looking around nervously as they moved past row after row of cargo containers. Seven's Borg alcove hummed insistently, almost as if it were aware of their presence. The effect unnerved the younger man greatly, making him feel even more guilty. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this."

The pilot chuckled. "You're gullible, Harry. When you trust people too much, you're bound to get into trouble... especially when your best friend is someone like me."

"That won't be much of an excuse when we're being lectured by the captain for this little stunt."

"The captain understands the dynamics of our friendship way better than you think. She'd let you off easy and give me some despicable punishment for trying to get at the envelopes and dragging you into this with me. She's very protective of her chief Operations officer, you know."

"She is not," Kim denied.

"Boy, you really are naive, aren't you? Go ahead and ask her about it sometime; I'm sure she'll be honest. Besides, I'm not planning on stirring the hornet's nest unnecessarily on this one. If we can't get in, we can't get in. I just can't resist trying," the pilot grinned.

Kim shook his head in defeat, unable to suppress a smile. His friend's penchant for mischief was an endless source of amusement for him. And he had to admit, that was the main reason he always wound up saying yes to Paris's outlandish schemes. There was something oddly satisfying about indulging in a bit of reckless behavior once in awhile, despite his desire to be an exemplary officer.

"That's it," Paris announced, pointing to a small carrying case that rested atop the last cargo container. "B'Ela said there's a level two force field surrounding the case."

Pulling out his tricorder, the younger man began scanning the area. "Seven wasn't taking any chances, huh?"

"Level two isn't as scary as you think. I might even be able to deactivate it without leaving any trails behind," Paris boasted as he stepped towards the computer panel on the wall.

A hand on his arm stopped Paris short. "There's a dampening field approximately fifteen centimeters in front of us, Tom," Kim warned. "It runs the entire width of the bay."

"You're kidding?"

"No I'm not. And unless you know how to decipher Borg encryptions, there's no way we can deactivate it."

The pilot stared in disbelief. "I can't believe Seven erected two different force fields to protect the envelopes."

"She obviously knows you better than you think," Kim grinned.

"More likely she's been talking to my wife, who does know me better than I think," Paris groaned.

The younger man laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "Win some, lose some," he offered playfully.

"What if I transported myself over there," Paris pointed to a spot near the computer panel. "I could probably still deactivate the primary force field..."

"I wouldn't recommend it," Kim cautioned. "I may not be able to read Borg encryptions, but I can tell by the size of the file that this is no ordinary dampening field. My guess is there are some pretty heavy-duty tripwires programmed in, and not all of them may need to be triggered by physically passing through it. Seven is too meticulous; she would have considered the transporter possibility even if B'Elanna hadn't."

"Harry, my friend," Paris began, looking sadly at his companion, "you need to have some serious discussions with your girlfriend about the nature of having fun. She needs to lighten up."

"She's not my girlfriend," Kim insisted.

"Oh, she is, too. You may not have the same kind of relationship a normal couple does, but there's still a deeper connection there. She's human; it may take awhile, but eventually she'll want to explore the nature of romance and intimacy. You're the only person I know who has the patience to take that journey with her. You're good for her."

A deep blush crept across Kim's face. He looked helplessly around the cargo bay, flustered past the point of speech. Chuckling loudly, Paris threw his arm around his friend's shoulder, guiding the younger man towards the exit. "Harry, you're one in a million. Do me a favor and don't ever change, okay? I thoroughly enjoy corrupting you."

~ * ~ * ~

Kathryn Janeway was nervous. The discovery of the debris field and Lieutenant Torres' subsequent analysis had added a lot more to the already growing list of questions, with no answers in sight. Though there didn't appear to be any present danger to _Voyager_ and her crew, she couldn't shake the feeling that they should just turn around and go back out the way they came. But, that wasn't her only problem. As she paced the length of her quarters, it suddenly occurred to her that she needed a cup of coffee very badly. She stopped where she was and rubbed her forehead roughly.

"Of all the days to give up caffeine," she mumbled bitterly. She hadn't been off duty for an hour and she was already starting to crawl the walls.

Her combadge chirped suddenly, startling her. "Chakotay to Janeway."

A multitude of thoughts instantly ran through her head before she answered, some of them innocent, some of them playful, some of them definitely otherwise. She braced herself in case he was looking to banter with her again. "Janeway here. What can I do for you, Commander?"

"I’m just checking to see how you’re doing this evening."

"I'm doing just fine," she responded. "How are you doing?" She didn't bother to hide the amusement in her tone. There was a long silence on the other end. _Got you again, my Angry Warrior_ , she thought wryly.

Chakotay cleared his throat before speaking again. "I'm not too bad, myself," he began. "I must admit that I'm very impressed. I thought for sure you'd be pacing the floor by this time, wishing desperately for a cup of coffee."

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. _Can he see through walls now?_ "I have every intention of winning this bet, Chakotay," she stated calmly. "I may wish I had a cup of coffee to drink right now, but I'm certainly not going to indulge."

"So you are pacing?" The smile in his voice was unmistakable.

"Did you have some other reason for calling or were you just trying to provoke me again?" she asked.

In his quarters, Chakotay stood next to his bed, facing the direction of her rooms. His eyes sparkled with amusement. He had to make his point and get off before his voice betrayed him. "Yes, I did want to tell you something. Do you remember the tea I gave you?" he asked innocently.

There was a long pause before she answered, and when she finally did, her voice carried a bit of an edge. "I remember it quite well, thank you."

"I just wanted you to know... it's naturally decaffeinated." He severed the connection quickly, unable to control his laughter any longer. Not two seconds later, he heard something heavy hit the other side of the wall that separated their quarters.

"I shouldn't be teasing her like that," he chuckled softly once he'd regained control. "The next thirty hours are going to be difficult for her." His face suddenly went very serious. The next thirty hours are going to be difficult for me, too, he considered silently. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Torres."

"Lieutenant Torres is in her quarters."

"Finally," Chakotay mumbled, making his way toward the exit. He was about five paces away from it when he stopped short, a look of concern suddenly crossing his features. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Paris."

"Lieutenant Paris is in his quarters," the computer answered obediently.

"Pinpoint the exact location of Lieutenants Paris and Torres within their quarters."

"Lieutenants Paris and Torres are in their bedroom."

Chakotay closed his eyes, running a hand across his face in irritation. "Don't those two ever come up for air?" he growled softly.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to look around the main room, searching for something to take his mind off the predicament he'd gotten himself into. A gentle smile spread across his face as his eyes found his medicine bundle, resting comfortably on a table in the far corner. He stepped forward, feeling the tension begin to slip away. Taking a journey with his spirit guide would definitely help him settle his frazzled nerves.

~ * ~ * ~

Neelix's eyes darted back and forth across the Mess Hall, panic quickly creeping up on him. The evening meal was nearly completed. He'd already begun to put food away, leaving only a few bowls of fruit on the main counter for those crew members looking for a snack later on.

The room was emptying much faster than the Talaxian would have liked. Apparently nobody was interested in sticking around to socialize. _There's nothing to be afraid of, there's nothing to be afraid of..._ he repeated silently like a mantra, taking deep breaths as he continued with his work.

Out in the main room, Naomi Wildman carefully pulled a chair up to the counter, her long, strawberry-blond hair swaying with her efforts. She was still too tiny to reach any of the food that was set out for the crew, forcing her to use creative measures if there wasn't an adult with her to help.

Blue eyes brightened as she looked over the selection of fruit available. Picking up a strange looking purple fruit with green dots, she glanced up at _Voyager's_ resident chef. "Hey Neelix, what's this?"

The Talaxian jumped at the sound of his name, but recovered quickly enough when he caught sight of the little girl. "Naomi!" he beamed, his nervousness momentarily disappearing. Pointing toward the fruit in her hand, he continued, "That is a Junarian sweetfruit. Peel back the outer husk and try it."

Naomi did as he suggested, her eyes widening as a burst of sweetness exploded in her mouth.

"It's good isn't it?" Neelix asked, handing her a napkin to catch the juice dripping down her chin.

"Very good," she declared, her mouth still half-full. "Can I bring one back for Mom?"

Neelix grinned at her. "Of course you can. How come you're up here all by yourself this late?"

"I came to invite you to a sleepover party tonight," Naomi told him with a smile.

"A sleepover?"

"Well, it's just you, me, and Mom, but it should be lots of fun!"

Neelix felt his fears evaporating at the thought of spending a night with his friends. "Are you certain this is okay with your mother?"

The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "It was her idea. Captain Janeway even let us borrow one of the survival tents and some sleeping bags from the cargo bay so we could pretend we're camping; we just got done setting the tent up in our quarters!"

"Well, that sounds like a lot of fun!" the Talaxian exclaimed. He glanced around the kitchen area, a touch of anxiety returning as he realized he still had work to complete.

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

The question caught him completely by surprise. Turning back, he looked inquiringly at the girl in front of him. "I guess I am, a little," he admitted after a moment. "Are you?"

Naomi grinned sympathetically. "A little. We've been at yellow alert for almost three days now, and I know that means something bad could happen. But, so far everything is okay."

Neelix nodded his head slightly, a nervous chuckle slipping from his throat. "Some morale officer I am," he chided himself. "I'm the one who needs comforting."

"It's okay to be afraid, Neelix," the little girl offered, her face filled with concern. "You told me that, remember? You said there's nothing wrong with being afraid; it's how you deal with the fear that matters most."

"So I did," the Talaxian smiled. "I suppose I should listen to what I'm saying once in awhile, shouldn't I?"

"You've helped me a lot whenever I've been scared," Naomi smiled at him. "Maybe this time I can help you."

Neelix wanted nothing more than to hug the little girl on the other side of the counter, so wise beyond her years. Her smile melted his heart and made all the shadows that had haunted him for days disappear completely. "You already have, Naomi," he expressed gently. "I need to finish up here, but I can be ready for our camping trip in about twenty minutes."

"I can help," she suggested eagerly. "That way you'll get done faster!"

Smiling brightly, the Talaxian gestured for Naomi to follow him into the kitchen. With a whoop of delight, the little girl jumped off her chair, the promise of a night filled with much excitement dancing in her eyes.

~ * ~ * ~

It was a horrible dream... giant pieces of wreckage lying in the cargo bay, shadows materializing from within them. They were moving toward her, cornering her. There were voices in her head, demanding to know why she had trespassed on sacred ground. All the while she cowered, too afraid to speak or move. The dark forms floated toward her, their outstretched arms poised to encircle her, to smother the life from her body as punishment for her crime. The wail of voices in agony rose all around her in a morbid crescendo. Death permeated her, called to her. She closed her eyes and began to cry...

Kathryn Janeway sat straight up in bed, tears streaming down her face, gasping for breath. The sound of her wake-up chime was repeating through the room, the computer's cold voice making her cringe.

"Computer, reset!" she barked, covering her face with her hands. She wiped the tears away and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Getting up, she made her way to the sink, not realizing until then how badly she was trembling. The cold water on her face felt good, but did little to wash away the echoes of her dream.

Janeway walked over to the replicator and absentmindedly ordered a cup of coffee. She'd even picked it up and was holding it inches from her mouth before she realized what she'd done. "Oh no you don't," she murmured aloud, setting it back in the recycler. "You're not going to lose your Ready Room because of a bad dream."

Reordering a glass of juice, she sat down on the sofa, her hands still trembling. Leaning back, she allowed her eyes to close, willing herself to relax. A difficult day lay ahead, and she needed to be in complete control — or at least some semblance of control.

_Happy thoughts, Kathryn_ , she ordered silently. Chakotay's face once again flashed into her mind unconsciously. The boot she'd thrown at the wall separating their quarters the night before was still lying on the floor. "Cheeky," she mumbled aloud, remembering his bold advice. She'd actually considered indulging in a cup of the tea before his call the night before, but the prospect of once again losing herself in such a wild erotic tide had made her exhausted just thinking about it. And after their conversation, she wasn't about to give him that kind of satisfaction.

Speaking of the tea, she couldn't help but wonder exactly what he'd done to calm himself yesterday after exiting the Bridge in such a rush. A wave of laughter burst forth as several possibilities crossed her mind. She leaned forward, clutching her stomach, allowing the laughter to ease her tension.

"Oh, Kathryn, you're just as bad as he is!" she scolded when she'd finally caught her breath. "You're like two peas in a pod..." Her voice trailed off as she realized what she'd just said. The smile was slow to disappear as the thought lingered. _No, don't go there. You can't. It's just not possible..._ She took a deep breath to clear the suggestion from her mind. When she finally rose and made her way to the shower, only visions of twisted metal and mysterious shadows pervaded her thoughts.

~ * ~ * ~

Chakotay stepped quickly into the Science Lab, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Torres. He was due on the Bridge in fifteen minutes, so he needed to talk fast if he wanted to solve his dilemma before the engineer became indisposed again. The commander watched her intently as he approached. She was studying a small piece of the debris with different instruments, making calculations and running additional scans.

"Well, you're in a hurry. Trying to get more exercise in your old age?" Torres teased, recognizing her old friend out of the corner of her eye.

"That's very funny," Chakotay answered, smiling. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"How would you go about disarming a level two security field? I mean, if you had to, that is," he asked, trying to sound casual.

Not many people would have been able to interpret the signals he was giving off, but Torres could, clear as day. He was nervous. She set down the instrument she'd been working with and turned to look him square in the eye. "You want to get at the envelopes, don't you? Why?"

Her questions momentarily startled _Voyager's_ first officer, even though he'd expected as much. He swallowed visibly, unable to find the right words to explain his predicament to her.

Torres stared at the former Maquis leader with a mixture of amusement and suspicion. "Are you that worried about what the captain might have written down?"

Chakotay took a deep breath, closing his eyes. She was possibly the only person on board he could trust in this situation. "No," he said finally. "I'm worried about what I wrote down."

A huge smile spread across the engineer's face. "Wouldn't it just be easier to talk Tom into revealing only the winner's demands?" She couldn't keep the laughter from her voice. He looked like a little kid afraid to admit he'd done something wrong.

"I think that would only make matters worse, and I doubt my threatening to shut down his betting pool would do a bit of good either," he stated.

"Probably not," Torres grinned. "So, are you gonna tell me what you wrote down?"

"Probably not," he retorted back, his own smile renewing itself.

"That good, huh? Maybe it's something the captain wouldn't mind?" she suggested, raising her eyebrows. Chakotay took her teasing without complaint, knowing that their conversation wouldn't go further than the room they were in.

"You don't understand, B'Elanna; I need to get that envelope back," he emphasized.

"Okay," she gave in, holding up her hands. "I can tell you how to deactivate the force field, Chakotay, but remember — I wasn't involved."

"Trust me, we never had this conversation," he smiled, breathing a sigh of relief.

Chakotay listened intently as the engineer gave him detailed instructions, committing them to memory. He would most likely only have one chance to pull this off, and if he did it wrong, it would be obvious that someone had tampered with the security field. A quick check through the ship's security logs would identify him as the culprit, leaving him with two embarrassing situations to deal with instead of one.

"Think you've got it?" Torres asked after she'd finished telling him what he wanted to know.

He nodded confidently. "It doesn't sound as complicated as I thought it would be."

"Good luck," she grinned. "I expect to hear what this was all about someday."

"Someday," he affirmed, winking at her. "Thanks, B'Ela."

"No problem."

The engineer watched as Chakotay left, her eyes remaining on the doors even after they'd closed behind him. Her grin suddenly grew wider, the twinkle in her eyes tracking the increasingly devious train of her thoughts until a full-blown smile spread across her face. "Oh, did I forget to mention the dampening field?" she asked the empty room, looking extremely proud of herself. The thought of Chakotay getting tangled in the trap she and Seven had set for Paris caused her to burst out laughing.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Torres chuckled, trying to catch her breath. She glanced at the chronometer on the console beside her, trying to gauge how much time she'd have to pull off the scheme that was currently forming in her brain. "This is definitely going to be interesting..."

~ * ~ * ~

Janeway sat in her command chair, legs crossed, eyes focused intently on the viewscreen. Chakotay had been watching her the whole morning, discreetly, of course. He was worried. She seemed disturbed, and he didn't think the absence of caffeine in her system was entirely the reason. When he'd asked her whether she was all right, her response had been a brief, polite nod and nothing more. For a moment, he'd thought perhaps she was still angry about the previous night's conversation, but then it dawned on him that her thoughts were too far away for that. Something else was bothering her.

Chakotay stood up as turbolift doors opened, turning to acknowledge Tuvok as he walked onto the Bridge. The Vulcan's return meant that the command officers could take their lunch break.

As the first officer started for the turbolift, he noticed the captain hadn't moved. "Captain?" he asked softly. "Aren't you going to take a break?"

His voice snapped Janeway back from wherever her thoughts had been. She looked at him, momentarily surprised. "Is it that late already?"

"Yes, ma'am," Chakotay grinned.

After a pause, she smiled back and stood up, following him to the turbolift. "Deck Two," she called once they were inside.

"Deck Three," added Chakotay.

Janeway glanced at him quizzically. "You're not eating?"

"I am, but I need to take care of something first. Meet you there?"

The captain nodded, smiling distractedly.

They were both silent as the turbolift made its way one deck below _Voyager's_ command center, coming to a smooth stop on Deck 2. Janeway glanced at him politely as the doors opened. "I'll see you in a bit," she offered before exiting.

He smiled back, waiting until the doors closed again before issuing another command. "Computer, disregard the next destination. Take me to Deck Eight instead."

"Acknowledged," came the cool reply.

Unzipping his uniform jacket, Chakotay reached in and produced an envelope identical to the one he'd sealed the previous day during his little bet with the captain. This one, however, contained his deliverance rather than his undoing. He tapped the envelope against his fingers nervously as the turbolift descended toward the bowels of the ship, hoping against all hope that nothing would go wrong.

~ * ~ * ~

_Voyager's_ first officer made his way carefully through the corridors toward Cargo Bay 1, the replacement envelope held tightly in his hand. When he finally arrived in front of the bay doors, he checked the immediate corridor in both directions. This wasn't a highly traveled part of the ship, so the chances of him being spotted were pretty remote. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he stepped forward and entered.

The first thing that assaulted his senses was the hum of Seven's Borg alcove. He'd never realized how menacing it sounded until now. Suppressing a nervous shudder, Chakotay called, "Computer, notify me if anyone enters the corridor outside Cargo Bay One between junctions 41-A and 41-B." That would give him plenty of time to hide should someone actually come this direction.

"Acknowledged."

Taking a deep breath, Chakotay started forward, his eyes darting back and forth across the bay. It didn't take him long to spot the carrying case that contained the envelopes sitting innocently at the back of the room. He began silently running through the directions Torres had given him, repeating the steps over and over in his mind. There was definitely no margin for error with this endeavor.

He passed the Borg alcove, ignoring the green pulses of electricity that slithered across the top of the unit, and proceeded down the row of cargo containers toward his target. It wasn't so much the sudden tingling sensation he felt that made him stop a few short meters away from his goal as it was the sound of tiny bits of metal hitting the floor. Startled, he looked down, searching for the source of the noise. What he saw took a full three seconds to register in his brain.

With the exception of his boots and the envelope he carried, Chakotay was completely nude. His combadge, rank bar, and the zippers from his uniform jacket and trousers were all lying at his feet. Every square centimeter of fabric had dematerialized off his body.

"You've got to be kidding," he murmured incredulously.

Before he could even begin to comprehend what had just happened, the computer's voice echoed through the room. "Ensign Seven has just entered the designated corridor section outside of Cargo Bay One."

Panic seized Chakotay; there could be no doubt of where she was headed. Cursing silently, he turned and ducked behind one of the cargo containers, remembering at the last second that he'd left his dropped items out on the floor. With a mad dash, he rushed back out, grabbed the items, and dove back to safety just in time to hear the cargo bay doors hiss open.

Seven marched in with her usual confident stride, oblivious to the fact that she was being covertly watched by a very nervous, very naked first officer. The former Borg headed directly for the console that stood in front of her alcove. After touching a series of controls, she turned around and began to work the Borg control panel. A few moments later, Seven turned again and walked straight down the length of the cargo bay to where the carrying case was. The Astrometrics officer then picked up the case and started for the exit.

Chakotay felt his heart sink as he watched his hopes for a successful envelope exchange leave the cargo bay. Seven must have found out what he'd planned and had come to remove the envelopes to a more secure location. With a frustrated groan, he peered over the top of the container, staring at the now empty room.

The chirp of his combadge startled the already unsettled first officer even further. "Doctor to Commander Chakotay."

Another rush of adrenaline surged through him, accompanied by a wave of anger. "What is it, Doctor!" he barked, tapping the communications device.

"I'm thrilled to hear your voice, too, Commander," the EMH offered sarcastically. "Your presence is required in the Mess Hall."

The Mess Hall? He shook his head, trying to clear the misdirected animosity from his voice. "On my way."

Chakotay sprinted over to the replicator. "Computer, one command uniform and turtleneck, specifications: Commander Chakotay." There was no time to worry about undergarments; he could always excuse himself to change completely after dealing with whatever was going on.

"Unable to comply," the computer responded coolly.

The first officer stared at the replicator as if it had suddenly sprouted legs and started barking. _Maybe it's off-line for some reason?_ he considered, a growing sense of unease filling the pit of his stomach.

"Computer, initiate site-to-site transport, destination Commander Chakotay's quarters," he ordered, desperately hoping that there wouldn't be a malfunction with the transporters. The last thing he needed was a reprimand on his record for indecent exposure should he be transported somewhere else instead. The hum of a transporter beam engulfed him instantly, and he watched with relief as the familiar surroundings of his quarters appeared around him seconds later.

Wasting no time, Chakotay tossed the things he held onto a table and charged into his bedroom, stabbing at the closet controls. When the door swished open, he found there was nothing inside, no uniforms, no shoes… nothing. A look of utter shock crossed his face as reality sank in. A frenzied examination of his dresser turned up the same results: all of his clothes were gone. It didn't take long for him to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Torres!!" he bellowed loudly, following it with a rather long string of insults. He marched back into the main room and stopped in front of his own replicator, knowing full well that he probably wouldn't be able to get what he wanted. "Computer, one command uniform and turtleneck, specifications: Commander Chakotay."

The replicator hummed to life, producing a rather colorful article of clothing that was most definitely not a uniform. The first officer's heart pounded loudly in his chest as he picked up the offered apparel: a purple, terry cloth bathrobe decorated with bright yellow chickens. _This isn't happening_ , he thought wildly.

"Computer, I specified a command uniform, not a bathrobe!"

"Unable to comply. Please restate the question."

"Doctor to Commander Chakotay," the combadge on the table chirped once more.

Chakotay lunged at the device, unable to contain his anger any longer. "Yes?" he snarled.

"Were you planning on making an appearance, Commander?"

He rubbed his face furiously. He had no choice. If his presence hadn't been immediately required, he could have used someone else's replicator to acquire a uniform. As it was, he was just going to have to grin and bear the embarrassment of wearing the ridiculous bathrobe. "I'll be right there," he snapped, throwing the robe over himself. At least it was a decent length, stopping just below his knees. With a deep, frustrated breath, he attached his combadge to the front of the robe and headed out the door, bracing himself for the humiliation that was sure to follow.

~ * ~ * ~

Rank definitely has its privileges. Despite his outrageous appearance, Chakotay received nothing more than a few odd looks from passing crew members. Had he not been _Voyager's_ second in command, he was certain the officers' silent speculation would have been replaced by snide remarks.

When he finally entered the Mess Hall, the first thing Chakotay saw was Torres' huge smirk. The Klingon engineer was sitting at a nearby table, visibly fighting a fit of laughter.

Beside her, Paris sat with his eyebrows raised high enough to make a Vulcan proud as he stared in disbelief. "And you think I have bad taste in clothing?" he asked his wife, making sure his comment was loud enough for the first officer to hear.

Chakotay ignored both of them, turning his attention to where Janeway and the Doctor were standing. The captain was leaning against the main food counter, head resting against the palm of her hand. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Chakotay approaching, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Did we get you away from something important, Commander?" she asked quietly, the slightest suggestive hint to her tone.

"Just a slight... malfunction, Captain. I apologize for my appearance," he replied tightly. A quick glance around the room deepened his extreme embarrassment. People were beginning to stare. He'd expected as much; how could anyone not stare at him dressed as he was? Harry Kim was there, and Neelix, both of them looking quite speechless as they gaped at his clothing. The person he hadn't expected to see, however, was Seven of Nine. The former Borg was there in the Mess Hall, carrying case in hand, observing him with cool curiosity. Realization dawned very slowly. "What's going on?" he asked, turning his attention back to the people in front of him.

_Voyager's_ holographic doctor tore his confused gaze away from the commander's robe, clearing his throat loudly. "Congratulations, Commander," he offered with a smile. "You have officially won the bet made between you and Captain Janeway."

Chakotay's heart skipped a beat as his eyes fixed on his commanding officer, another surge of adrenaline shooting through him. _This is not happening..._ he repeated silently.

Janeway's expression changed subtly, the amusement chased away by her own embarrassment. Shaking her head in defeat, she indicated the cup that sat in front of her. "I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a sip before I realized what I was doing," she explained. "My mind was on other things."

"And what were you doing, Chakotay?" asked Paris bluntly as he came up from behind. "Didn't anyone teach you to remove your boots before taking a shower?"

Chakotay heard stifled laughter in the background, no doubt from Torres. He turned to glare at the pilot.

"That was what you were going to do, right?" Paris continued, nodding toward the bathrobe.

The first officer bit back a sarcastic remark, choosing instead to turn back to the matter at hand. "Captain, I really don't expect you to go through with any of this. I was just trying to raise your hackles a little. I never expected this kind of an outcome."

"Neither did I, Chakotay, but I agreed to this bet; I have no intention of trying to back out. I lost, and I'll accept whatever it is you require from me," she stated firmly.

Chakotay swallowed hard, fighting the rising panic in his stomach. "But, it's really not necessary..."

"Oh, yes it is!" Paris choked out, a worried expression on his face. Everyone turned to look at him, startled by the intensity of his outburst. "I mean," he began, his voice a bit more controlled, "a bet was made, and the outcome has been decided. The loser has to yield, otherwise... well..." The pilot was fumbling for words, turning five shades of red in the process.

"Otherwise your betting pool will be seriously jeopardized?" Seven piped in, completely unaware of the implications of her words. More stifled laughter, this time from everyone else in the room. "Am I not correct, Lieutenant?" the former Borg asked innocently.

Paris looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere. He turned around and gave Seven an irritated look, clearing his throat loudly. "Well, what do you say we get on with the readings?" he asked.

Reluctantly, both commanding officers moved toward one of the tables and sat down. Chakotay glanced at Torres, giving her the most menacing look he could muster. There was a lot of amusement in the engineer's dark eyes, but the smile on her face told him she was far more concerned with hearing what he'd written down than with having succeeded with her practical joke.

_This is it..._ Chakotay thought, his stomach churning violently. _I'll never live this down. I'll be paying for this until we get back to the Alpha Quadrant... and longer, probably._

"Okay," Paris said, his face finally returning to its normal color. "First we'll read what the captain wanted from Chakotay if she'd won the bet." The pilot took Janeway's envelope from Seven and opened it, a smile spreading across his face as he read, "Sing a duet with the Doctor at the next Talent Night!"

A chorus of laughter and cat calls spread through the ranks. Even Chakotay couldn't suppress a chuckle at the thought. He glanced back at Janeway; her eyes were sparkling.

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted," the Doctor murmured gruffly.

"Forget that," insisted Torres, giving the first officer's shoulder a shove. "Let's hear what Chakotay wrote down."

The ex-Maquis leader closed his eyes, unable to fathom the scene that was about to happen.

"Captain, I believe this envelope is for you," Paris said, handing it to her.

Janeway took the envelope from him, her eyes never leaving Chakotay's. She was completely baffled by his behavior the last several minutes. He should have been elated that he'd won the bet. Instead, he looked embarrassed with a touch of fear clouding his eyes. _And why is he wearing that ridiculous bathrobe?_ she wondered as she opened the envelope. Everyone leaned forward, waiting for the final blow to be dealt.

Finally opening his eyes again, Chakotay sat motionless as the captain pulled out the piece of paper. His heart felt like it was going to ricochet right through his ribcage as her fingers carefully unfolded it and silently read the words he'd written. His breathing stopped; time slowed to a crawl. He watched as a myriad of expressions slowly swept across her face. When she finally looked back up at him, he found himself unable to look away. "I really didn't think I'd win," he said to her softly, hardly aware that he'd even spoken out loud.

"Well?" the pilot finally ventured, breaking the silence.

Kathryn Janeway reluctantly tore her eyes away from her first officer and resettled them on the piece of paper she held. Only two simple words were written there, but their meaning was almost too much for her to comprehend. There, in the middle of the page, in Chakotay's own handwriting were the words:

**MARRY ME**

~ * ~ finis ~ * ~


End file.
